


The Afterlife of Commander Shepard

by mrs_d



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Mass Effect 3: Citadel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 16:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4108194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I feel like the end has already come and gone, like it’s all already over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Afterlife of Commander Shepard

I wake from a nightmare. Not my usual one, though the spindly trees looked familiar and the sense of dread was the same. I ache as if the dream somehow hurt me, as if I’d been shot. Instinctively, my hand goes to my gut but there’s nothing, not even a bruise. I breathe deeply to collect myself. Familiar skylight over my bed, familiar, subtle hum of the engine. I rise, putting my feet on the cool floor, and head to the computer. New orders state to go home — well, home away from home — to rest up before the end. But I feel like the end has already come and gone, like it’s all already over.

* * *

More gun battle. How could I have thought that it was over? Friends make it easy. Fun with guns, one of them would say. Once we return, I remember my orders. Rest up, the admiral told us. My pilot jokes about throwing a party. I take him up on it. I change out of my armour. Later, everyone arrives.

* * *

There’s ultimately little difference between commander and host. I have my friends’ backs; they have mine. Everyone’s good, glad to be here, but something’s unsettled inside me. I roam, room to room, asking questions but always standing outside the heart of conversation. I sense the unspoken, the dread from my dream.

* * *

I seek out my lover, who is sure to set me straight. As we flirt, I see flashes, hear echoes of shouting. Leftover from duty, I tell myself. Can’t get away from the war. Lover laughs at something I say, but I cannot remember what was so funny. Conversation stalls, a hint of concern in my lover’s eyes. I blink and I am back in my nightmare. Home, but it’s hideous, tainted by all that is wrong in the galaxy. The darkness waited outside for so long, and now I’ve invited it in. The comm in my ear calls to me, but I cannot respond. My left hand is sticky with someone’s blood, and the pistol in my right hand is too heavy. My breathing is laboured. Everything hurts.

* * *

Then it is over. The nightmare passes, and I am back with my lover. I laugh off my unease and walk away. I stand in the middle of the empty bedroom and think of those whom I’ve lost and those who are here, waiting for me, those whom I love and cannot leave. And, after a moment, I am sure I am dead. That’s it’s all already over, and we lost — or maybe we won, but I’m gone. Stuck in an empty bedroom while the party — the galaxy — goes on without me. And then, just as suddenly, I’m not sure of anything. I leave the room.

* * *

The saviour of the galaxy, a friend cries, doesn’t have to dance perfectly. My body moves to the music as my friends smirk. They’ll tease me about this for years, about throwing a party and dancing in the kitchen. Then my left hand brushes against my stomach and a bullet whirs past my right ear. I raise my other hand, but the pistol is so heavy. My friends are gone. Sharp narrow trees stab the sky and water seems to flow upward past the bodies. I step forward to face the monstrous beam of blue light and the massive black shape beyond.

* * *

Someone’s reciting the elements. I have stopped dancing and only observe. They drink the way soldiers on shore leave do. I head to the den. An old friend blithers on about what it means to be a man. The others bicker — soldier stuff again. I try to join in, but I’m apart from them as much as I’m a part of them. Distracted by a small noise, I turn. It is the child from Earth. The one I couldn’t save. I go to him. Maybe the galaxy sent him to show mercy; maybe he is here to forgive me and let me go. I stop at the base of the stairs. Let me go, I repeat to myself. Let me go where, I wonder. The boy is gone.

* * *

Warmth in my lover’s embrace. Alcohol filtering through me. I don’t remember drinking. My lover touches me in the dark. All other thoughts disappear.

* * *

Morning. I expect the skylight, the subtle hum of the engine, but there’s silence except for my lover’s breathing. I move and my lover moves too. Years of hard beds, waiting for the next attack, have robbed us of simple pleasures. I head downstairs, the host and commander once more. Almost everyone is in the kitchen, thinking and talking of breakfast. Then I blink and they’re gone. A vast stretch before me — three paths. Three choices. I choose. My friends return.

* * *

At the docks I wait for them. All together we look out at the world that unfolds beneath our feet and the vast reaches of sky beyond. As one, we sigh, resigned to save it, all of it, all that we can. My lover looks back, and I am not here.

* * *

I wake from a nightmare. Not my usual one, though the spindly trees looked familiar and the sense of dread was the same. The sense that it’s all already over, and now I have only to accept it.


End file.
